


Drone

by pipermca



Series: Prompts and Events [10]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Forced Exhibitionism, Forced Orgasm, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Prompt Fill, Slave Trade, Slave coding, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:20:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21750673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipermca/pseuds/pipermca
Summary: While investigating a suspected trafficking ring, Prowl discovers that things are even worse than the Enforcers had originally thought.
Relationships: Jazz/Prowl
Series: Prompts and Events [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1129820
Comments: 31
Kudos: 151





	Drone

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt fill for the TF Speedwriting challenge on Tumblr: [setting: a drone auction](https://tfspeedwriting.tumblr.com/post/188445323987/prompt-2-setting-a-drone-auction).

Prowl did not like doing undercover work.

He preferred the predictability and routine of patrol and deskwork and investigation. He enjoyed going out to speak to witnesses, or collecting evidence at a crime scene, or piecing together a myriad of facts and details into a coherent picture. He liked analyzing the data he'd collected and developing a hypothesis, and further refining that data into leads for further investigation.

He **especially** liked doing that.

But he did not like undercover work. He did not particularly enjoy pretending to be someone else, or of donning another personality like a coat of paint. Speaking of paint, he also didn't like the temporary paint jobs that came with a new undercover persona. They were hard on his finish, and made his plating itch until the paint was removed.

But since he was one of the few Praxians on the Rodion police force, he was occasionally called in when they needed a door-winged mech to play a specific role for a case. And Prowl usually agreed... Especially when the case was a particularly ugly one, like the trafficking investigation.

For years, there had been rumours of a trafficking ring operating in Rodion. Pleasurebots spoke in hushed tones of those who'd gone missing: picked up by a client and then never seen again. But since most of the shareware that worked the lower streets of the citystate were transient in some way or another, a missing mech report often just revealed that the mech had moved on to another city. Or, sometimes the missing mech turned up dead, killed by a cortical patch burnout or an overdose of nova dust. Sadly, that meant many of the missing mechs were not missed for long. It was just assumed that they'd gotten tired of the scenery in Rodion, or they had found someplace to stimulate their processors directly into the Afterspark.

 _Why waste time looking for shareware?_ was the common opinion. _If they hadn't put themselves into that situation, they wouldn't have ended up missing or dead._ The middle and upper-class mechs of Rodion would shrug sadly. _They made their choices._ And then the conversation would shift to another, more comfortable topic.

Prowl hated that sort of disdain for the pleasurebots. He didn't care that they were selling their frames for shanix. He'd spoken to enough of them to know that through a few slips of bad luck, anyone might find themselves facing the same choice: starve, or sell whatever you have to survive. And when you own nothing, the only thing you have left to sell is yourself. Plus, with wages and housing the way they were in the citystate, it was no wonder that so many mechs fell through the cracks.

But eventually, one missing mech caught the media's attention. A young mech, just barely into his adult upgrades, had vanished. He hadn't been a pleasurebot, but had been working as a server at a club to earn enough money for processor upgrades. His roommate had reported him missing after he hadn't come home after work one night. When the young mech was found deactivated in one of the waste troughs that ran under the city streets, his well-placed friends made sure that the media took notice. The uproar from that death **finally** caused the Chief Enforcer to order an investigation of the rumoured trafficking ring.

It took them all of a week to find out the rumours were probably true.

However, all of the leads they picked up seemed to lead right to a very seedy - but totally legal - pleasure drone trading house. The proprietors bought very legal mech shells, outfitted them with drone motivators, and then customized the shells in whatever way the purchaser requested. Sure, some of them were sold as housekeepers or caretakers for younglings, but most of them seemed to end up being used as interface toys.

Your personal pleasure drone could be customized with multiple valves or spikes, extra arms or kibble that you might find exciting, extra intakes or no intake... They could do anything that you could dream or fantasize. Your drone could then be programmed to act **almost** like a real mech: moan at the right time, buck its hips into you at the right amount of stimulation, or say your designation in whatever pitch or volume you wanted. It could be the perfect partner for whatever kink you wanted to satisfy.

This in itself was vaguely scandalous; the initial investigation turned up a number of high-ranking Rodion officials who were regular customers. Some of them had ordered particularly lewd drones, including a very expensive custom job that was basically all tires and valves. That scandal kept the newsbots occupied for almost a full year as the city collectively clutched its hands to its spark chamber and asked how such an indecent thing could happen in Rodion.

Meanwhile, the investigation continued, quietly peeling back the layers of what lay behind that trading house. Under that layer of obscenity were so many more strata of filth and depravity that it took the police over a year to sort out how to even approach the next step in the investigation.

And thus began one of the longest undercover jobs that Prowl had ever undertaken. So many detectives were required that they pulled from all over the force, and Prowl was given the role of a prospective client.

Over the year he'd been on the case, Prowl had purchased several drones from the trading house, turning all of them over to the forensics team to determine whether there was anything illegal being done to produce them. They were scoured for unregistered parts, unapproved logic circuitry, banned scripting, and so on. Every single drone ended up being perfectly legal, if distasteful to polite society.

But finally, after months of buying drone after drone and telling the proprietor how much he was 'enjoying' his purchases, Prowl had been given an invitation to the 'VIP night' sale.

"It’s an auction night where we bring in special vendors to show off some of their more rare and special models," Spinup told Prowl a few nights before. The trading house's owner leaned on the counter to show Prowl some pictures from the datapad he was holding. The images showed rather normal-looking drones. "They look fairly non-descript, but they've got top-notch programming with some special features. Think of them as a cross between a pleasurebot and a drone, if you know what I mean. There will be demonstrations, and you'll even the chance to take one for a spin." He grinned at Prowl, or 'Haywire' as he knew him. "Based on what you've told me of your preferences, I think this might be right up your alley."

'Haywire' had a preference for drones who could do more than just lay back and take a spike, or act as an unthinking rutting machine. Haywire wanted a drone that could pass as a 'real' mech. Now, it looked like he was going to get an opportunity to purchase something really special. Prowl smiled broadly at Spinup, lifting his green and silver door wings in an anticipatory gesture. "Thank you. It **does** sound like something I'd be interested in."

When Prowl stepped into the trading house the night of the special sale, he did a quick scan of the crowd. His orders for this particular night were strictly surveillance, and to collect information. He was instructed to show interest in a few of the models, but then simply aim to be invited back to another sale to collect more evidence so that the police could lay the groundwork for a full raid.

That was fine with Prowl. He knew it was required to collect evidence, but he hated buying drones from the trading house. He knew that the shanix he paid for them would just get funneled into whatever unsavory dealings the police were trying to uncover.

"Glad you could make it, Haywire!" Spinup handed Prowl a glass of high grade and ushered him to a seat near the display stage where drones were usually displayed for sale. Tonight, the stage had been draped in glittery mesh, and a chair had been placed near the middle. Spinup handed Prowl a paddle with a number on it. "If you're interested in bidding on any of the merchandise, just hold that up high. We'll be starting in a few minutes. Just relax until then."

Prowl nodded and turned his attention back to the crowd. Many of the mechs in attendance were wearing obvious disguises, with poorly done paint jobs, or false kibble tacked on to disrupt silhouette recognition software. Others, though, were either well-done disguises, or were the lackeys of moneyed mechs. He tagged captures of several of their faces for later analysis to see if they could be identified.

Soon, the lights in the trading house fell, and music started up. A spotlight lit the stage and a mech done up in glittery paint stepped out from behind the curtain. "Welcome to our special VIP night! I'm Brushfire, your auctioneer for the night. I know you're as anxious to get started as I am, so let's see our first item for bid!"

A drone stepped out from behind the curtain. It had the too-slow and too-smooth movements of a well-programmed drone, a gap between the jerky movements of a household drone and the more natural movements of a live mech that even the best programming had yet to bridge. There was a vacant look in the drone's optics as it obeyed Brushfire's command to spin in place, showing off its gaudy paint and open interface panels for all to see.

Prowl pretended to sip from his glass of high grade as he ran a comparison of the drone's face against the database of missing mechs. Having the glass raised to his mouth managed to keep him from reacting when he got a hit almost immediately.

The face matched a pleasurebot who had been reported missing just two weeks before. The story from the other bots on his corner was that a client had picked him up, and he'd never come back.

Prowl watched the 'drone' carefully. It acted just like a drone, following every command to the letter and not a bit more. There was no sign of awareness. Perhaps the pleasurebot had been deactivated, and his frame was being used as a shell for the drone.

Prowl raised his glass to his mouth again as he watched the drone twirl slowly, his processor analyzing the movement looking for any clues.

"And for the next demonstration, I'll show off how lifelike it can really be," Brushfire said, and held his fingers to the drone's lips. "Suck on these."

The drone's mouth opened slowly, and Brushfire pushed his fingers into its mouth. The drone started to suck on them, his jaw working slowly.

Beside Prowl, a customer at the next table made a breathy sound from his vents. Prowl heard the distinctive sound of an interface panel sliding open, and the wet sound of fingers slipping into an exposed valve under the table.

Ugh.

"As you can see, the merchandise responds perfectly to your commands." Brushfire smiled at the audience. "But any drone can do that. The real secret is when you push back the layers of control." He looked back at the drone. "Wake," he said clearly.

At Brushfire's command, the vacant look on the mech's face vanished, replaced by shock, then revulsion, and then fear. His optics went wide and darted up to Brushfire's face, but his jaw continued to work as he sucked on Brushfire's fingers.

With a smile, Brushfire slowly slipped his fingers from the mech's mouth, pausing to wipe them on the mech's plating. "Show me your spike," Brushfire said, and the mech's spike housing spiraled open, his spike pressurizing immediately. "Now... Stroke yourself to overload. Show us what you've got."

The mech's face flushed with a look of humiliation as he grabbed at his spike and started pulling on it. His optics flicked from Brushfire to the crowd and back as his hand moved faster and faster, until his whole frame shuddered into overload, his transfluid spattering the stage floor in front of him.

At the next table, the customer's hand worked faster under the table, and he moaned quietly.

Brushfire turned to look back at the crowd. "Perfectly cognizant, and perfectly controlled," Brushfire said with a wave of his hand. "The lock will allow for the drone to be aware of everything done to it, but it will still follow every single command. The underlying consciousness can be activated or paused at any time. And, there is also the option to wipe any memory between specific timestamps." He grinned. "It's the perfect toy."

It took every bit of Prowl's training and willpower to not jump out of his seat and charge the stage. The Enforcers had suspected that the missing bots were being killed and used as a cheap source of shells for the drones, or that they were being used as unwilling slaves, possibly in an underground brothel of some sort.

This... This was so much worse.

"Do we have anyone who would like to test the merchandise? For 300 shanix you may have 15 minutes, with an option to purchase afterwards." Brushfire scanned the crowd.

The customer beside Prowl jumped up and waved his auction paddle. In just a minute, he and the 'drone' were escorted to a curtained-off area beside the stage. Before the curtain was pulled shut, Prowl saw a panicked look on the supposed drone's face.

Prowl's hands balled into fists under the table.

For the next 'drone,' a dance pole was set up on the stage. The crowd watched as Brushfire 'woke' the drone, and ordered the mech to dance. The mech twirled around and climbed and rode the pole in a way that a drone simply could never do. At Brushfire's orders, the mech stuck his fingers in his valve and began pumping them in and out as he spun around the pole. And all through his sensuous motions, the mech's face was a mask of despair.

 _Slag_ , thought Prowl. _I wish I could help you._

But... orders were orders. "You are to attend the event to do surveillance **only** ," Prowl's lieutenant had told him. Prowl dutifully scanned the mech's face, and matched it to a club dancer who had been reported missing over a month ago.

How much had that mech been through in a month? Prowl wasn't even sure he wanted to know the answer.

As the second mech for sale was taken backstage by another client, Spinup stopped by Prowl's table. "See anything of interest yet?" he asked.

"It's all been very tempting," Prowl replied smoothly. He smiled at Spinup ingratiatingly. "But I'd hate to jump at one offering and miss something I might enjoy even more."

"Fair enough," Spinup said with a laugh, and wandered off to the next table.

For the third sale, the pole had been replaced by the chair again. When the next mech was brought out, Brushfire spun him around slowly as he'd done with the others. This mech was Polyhexian, mostly white and black, with blue and red accents. His visor was dark, and he moved with the same uncanny motions that the other mechs had before they'd been woken up.

"A fine treat for you tonight, designed to illustrate the range of action you can get from one of these drones," Brushfire said. "We've had a dancer, now we have a singer." Brushfire grabbed the mech's chin guard and tipped his helm towards the audience. "Wake."

The mech's visor brightened as he came back to awareness, but his expression didn't change. Prowl saw the flicker as the mech looked out over the crowd before his gaze settled on Brushfire.

"As you know, drones can mimic speech, and even layer it with emotion, but singing in a convincing manner is beyond them. You can have it play a recording, but there's always something missing. We've solved that here." Brushfire gestured at the mech standing next to him with a flourish. "Sing for me," said Brushfire, pushing the mech down into the chair. "Sing me a dirty bar song, and show off your valve while you do that like the shareware you are. Oh!" Brushfire held up a finger as if he'd forgotten something, and added, "And overload at the end of the song."

The visored mech began to sing. The song was unfamiliar to Prowl, but the tune was bawdy and lively. In contrast, the mech's expression had hardened as his fingers splayed his valve open as he sang. But his voice was clear and strong. If he had been at a bar with some friends, Prowl might have found himself singing and laughing along with the raunchy lyrics.

The mech's gaze swept across the crowd again, pausing when he came to Prowl. His features were finely sculpted: a broad face, a strong chin, and full lips. Under any other circumstances, Prowl would have considered him handsome. But right now, all Prowl could do was despair that this mech might vanish into the household of some well-heeled mech, never to be seen again.

Prowl ran the mech's face against the database of missing mechs, but got no hits. Perhaps this mech hadn't been reported missing yet. Or – worse – maybe he **had** been reported missing, but not in Rodion. Prowl would have to return to the precinct to run a full search, but he wondered if this 'trading ring' stretched farther than just the dark corners of Rodion.

As the mech's song came to a close, his voice trembled slightly as his frame was wracked by an overload. The expression on his face made it clear that the overload was neither wanted, nor enjoyable.

As the mech's visor came back down to glare out at the audience, Prowl decided that his orders could be scrapped. There were mechs in immediate danger here. If he could get just one of them out of here now, his testimony could be used to help save others. All he needed was confirmation that this mech was not a willing participant.

Based on the mech's expression, Prowl was certain he was not here by choice.

Before Brushfire could ask whether anyone wanted a turn with the singer, Prowl held up his bid paddle. "I'll take a turn with him," he called.

"He's a bit more expensive than the previous two," Brushfire warned. "It'll be 500 shanix for 15 minutes."

"Worth it," Prowl said, flicking a door wing.

Within minutes, Spinup was settling the drone in one of the curtained areas scattered around the room. "I'll give you 20 minutes, friend," he said with a grin. "I want to make sure you get a good feel for what this one's capable of."

Prowl nodded. "I'm looking forward to it," he purred, and stepped closer to the supposed drone, who sat stiffly on the stool the auction house had provided.

As soon as the curtain was closed, Prowl felt along the mech's neck for his hardline port. Surely the stall was bugged, if not outright being monitored by video. He hoped that the mech hadn't been outfitted with viruses to protect the trafficking ring's investment. "Your voice is lovely," Prowl said, using the same low rumbling tone he'd just used with Spinup. "And you look just as beautiful as you sound. Shall I see if you feel beautiful, too?"

The mech glared up at him wordlessly, but he didn't move when Prowl slipped his wrist cable into the mech's neck port. Prowl kept his hand over the connection, trying to hide it from whatever camera they had in here. Connection protocols ran and came up clean of viruses, but Prowl couldn't get any deeper than surface level diagnostics. Prowl hoped that the mech's internal comm systems hadn't been encrypted; if it had, he wouldn't be able to understand what was being said to him over the hardline.

::I need to ask you some questions.:: Prowl paused after he sent the message over the hardline, waiting to see if there was any reaction. ::Do you understand what I'm saying?::

The mech looked up at Prowl blankly.

 _Scrap._ He either couldn't understand, or he couldn't respond.

Prowl stroked a hand down the mech's face, trying to keep up as much of a show for the stall's cameras as possible without actually interfacing with the mech. "Will you sing for me?"

Slowly, the mech's hands slid up to rest on Prowl's waist, and one of his fingers tapped on Prowl's hip armor. Then he began to sing.

Instead of the dirty tune he'd sung on stage, the mech began to sing a slow, melancholy song. Through his visor, his gaze held Prowl's. Even though the song he was singing sounded effortless, his face was a stony mask of concentration, as if he was focusing very hard.

"This song... So lovely," Prowl said quietly. "It reminded me of a Urayan ballad."

The mech's finger tapped once on Prowl's hip again.

_Ah hah!_

Prowl nodded slowly in time with the song. ::One tap for yes, two taps for no?::

One tap on Prowl's hip.

 _Perfect_.

Prowl traced a thumb across the mech's lower lip. "So beautiful," he purred again. The words came easily; now that he saw him up close, the mech was even more handsome than he'd first appeared on stage.

Prowl sent another question over the hardline. ::Are you here of your own free will?::

The mech's fingers quickly tapped twice on Prowl's hip as he continued to sing.

Not that Prowl was surprised, but the confirmation only steeled his resolve to get at least one of these mechs out of this situation tonight. ::I am Detective Prowl with the Rodion Police.:: The mech's visor brightened, and Prowl smiled at him. ::Do you want me to get you out of here?::

The mech's finger tapped once on Prowl's hip, hard enough to produce an audible clink of mesh on plating.

Prowl nodded again. ::Other than the locks on your processor and motivators, are you injured or in need of immediate medical attention?::

Two taps.

The mech's song slowly faded as it ended, and he leaned back into the chair he was sitting in. His face was still tipped upwards to look up at Prowl.

The glare he'd worn just a few minutes before on stage had been replaced by a guarded look of hope.

"That was lovely," Prowl said, cupping the mech's face in his hands. "Will you sing me another while I tell Spinup I want to purchase you?"

The mech immediately opened his mouth and began to sing again. This time, though, instead of a lewd bar song or a sad dirge, the song he sang was a Praxian hymn. As the mech's voice filled the stall with gorgeous sound, the lyrics wove a tapestry of anticipation and trust.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, but this was the very first place my brain went with that prompt! I churned out about [2800 words in two hours](https://pipermca.tumblr.com/post/188484574777/drone) for the speedwriting challenge. This is the edited/refined version.
> 
> If you liked this fic, please consider sharing it on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/pipermca/status/1204560515453923328), [Tumblr](https://pipermca.tumblr.com/post/189600422907/drone), or [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/posts/965462)!


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